


Join

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 06:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16510895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Erestor says goodbye before Glorfindel heads out.





	Join

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissManiac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissManiac/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for MissManiac’s “Magic with Erestor/Glorfindel. Preferably with real proper Elven magic involved (and not just one admiring the other or something). I'd love Erestor's POV” request on [my tumblr prompt list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/179060905990/prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Erestor’s steps feel longer than usual, slower, weighed down with questions, though he has no regrets. Every time he falters, his hand slips into his pocket, fingers curling around the sleek metal lines of his gift, and his resolve reforms. His heart knows what it wants. His mind says he should simply _say that_ , but it isn’t in his nature to be so blunt about such improper things. It’s easier to remain focused on his duties and to let his partner—a lord and warrior far beyond his station—set the tone in his off-hours.

He isn’t technically off now, but he knows Lord Elrond would have him set five minutes aside for goodbyes. He finally reaches Lord Glorfindel’s quarters with less than that to spare, but Erestor doesn’t want to be too long. He has a staff meeting to conduct and an appointment with three guests, then a laundry list of things to go over with Elrond himself. This will have to be short and efficient—the way that he prefers.

He knocks on the door, sure that he’s in time, and indeed, Glorfindel answers only a few seconds later. A wide smile splits his handsome face at the sight of Erestor, and he instantly steps back, gesturing inside in invitation. Erestor takes it, and Glorfindel shuts the door behind him. Before Erestor can say a word, Glorfindel’s long fingers are in his hair, soft lips brushing over his. Erestor surrenders to the kiss, enjoying the burst of warmth and _love_ that he feels, but he still places a hand against Glorfindel’s broader chest to keep the kiss from deepening. When Glorfindel tries, tongue swiping at Erestor’ seam, Erestor gently pushes him away. Glorfindel sighs, “I may be gone a month this time—will you not allow me a little fun before I leave?”

“Think of it as incentive to return,” Erestor counters. He’s sure that Glorfindel would eventually—there is no home in Middle Earth like Imladris. But Glorfindel must feel the call of farther places, and surely everyone that sees him must want to welcome him in. Glorfindel goes in for another kiss anyway, but Erestor sidesteps it and chides him, “You are set to leave any moment—the others will be waiting for you.”

“I had almost thought you had forgotten me.” There’s a twinkle in Glorfindel’s eyes—he must know that Erestor doesn’t forget anything, least of all the one thing most important to him. 

He can’t resist teasing, “I must make sure that our scouts represent us properly.” He punctuates his point by tugging at the hem of Glorfindel’s riding tunic, then smoothing out his shoulders—the fabric is a little bunched, not unruly but a tad unsightly. Glorfindel’s pleasant laughter chimes as Erestor fusses his clothes into place, until he looks gorgeous and meticulous, befitting of a hero out of song. 

Unfortunately, there’s little time beyond that. If there were more, Glorfindel would likely try to trade more words and make a play for further touches. Instead, he settles for a quiet, sincere, “Thank you for coming to see me off. I know you are busy.”

Erestor is never too busy for Glorfindel, though, at times, he thinks he should be—if he focused as much on his work as he did before Glorfindel’s appearance, perhaps he wouldn’t be in quite so terrifyingly deep as he is now. Choked with that emotion, he merely nods. Glorfindel affectionately kisses his cheek and heads for the door.

“Glorfindel.”

Pausing, Glorfindel looks back. Erestor extracts his gift from his pocket, holding it forward in the center of his palm. Glorfindel glances curiously at it, then plucks the silver chain up, the pendant at the bottom last to rise from Erestor’s hand. 

Smiling marvelously, Glorfindel pops open the locket. “This is lovely,” he says, genuine and kind. “...But I confess, I do not understand the inside.”

“It is not empty,” Erestor tells him, even though it looks that way: two smooth sides of plain mineral when open, though both ends are intricately patterned when closed. “I confess my magic is not as strong as my lord’s, nor the might that you must be used to from days of old. But I can do enough to keep my message concealed for when the right words are spoken, should they ever be. If you ask the question, it will answer.”

Glorfindel tilts his head, blond hair slipping over one shoulder. “And I will ask this while I am away from you?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you will in several years’ time, when we are sitting next to one another. Whenever it should come to you, I know my part.”

Clearly, Glorfindel doesn’t understand, but his smile dimples his cheeks anyway, his eyes alight as his hand clasps around the gift. He shakes his head, receives no further explanation, and then fits the necklace around his throat. As he hooks the back together, he muses, “I hope it conjures a picture of your face, so I might enjoy your beauty in your absence.

“Will you forget my face otherwise?” Erestor can’t help but tease. Glorfindel laughs.

Another kiss, and he’s promised, “I will remember you always, even should I find myself again in Mando’s Halls, clutching your gift and conjuring your image. And my heart will know you long after my eyes have closed.”

Erestor’s chest swells. He feels warm as a summer’s day, though the air outside is tepid, and he knows he has no business being so moved by simple, sentimental words. Glorfindel seems to have a way of breaking down his practicality. Glorfindel tells him, “Thank you,” and lifts one of his hands to kiss the back of it. 

They really have to go. Erestor can’t be seen leaving Glorfindel’s a blushing mess—he still has a full day of important things ahead. He opens the door first, ushering his lover through.

Someday, perhaps they’ll be _more_ —they’ll be wed properly, permanently. Perhaps he’ll be the one to have the courage to ask it after all, despite all the risks and reservations.

Or perhaps Glorfindel will ask it first, and Erestor will only have to answer: _now open your gift._


End file.
